


Gift Horses

by Moontyger



Category: Loveless
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't always get what you want.  But if you try sometimes... well, you know the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift Horses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boychik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boychik/gifts).



“You owe me an explanation, Sou-chan.” Kio's cheeks were flushed, but his gaze was steady, even when Soubi lifted his head to meet it. He was really angry this time; he wasn't going to just back off under Soubi's cool stare.

Soubi maintained eye contact until it was clear that Kio wasn't going to give in, then shrugged and broke their stare-down himself. He looked away, but with a casualness that suggested it had nothing to do with surrender. He seemed bored by the whole thing and his words only furthered the impression. “I don't see why.”

“You took me there and I was kidnapped!”

“You insisted on going,” Soubi pointed out, still perfectly calm. It was infuriating. “And they didn't hurt you.”

“That's not the point!”

Soubi leaned back on his couch and looked up again, one pale eyebrow raised in a gesture Kio was certain he'd never be able to duplicate. “Then what _is_ the point?”

And now that he'd been asked, of course Kio didn't know, or at least couldn't put it into words. He sputtered and made a few false starts before he finally came out with, “You're playing some kind of sick game. I don't know what it is, but people are getting hurt. Bad enough when it was just you, but now you've gotten a bunch of kids caught up in it, too.”

Soubi just looked at him with a serious expression and nodded. Kio sighed, shoulders slumping as he admitted defeat. “And you aren't going to tell me a thing.” He collapsed on the couch next to Soubi and tilted his head back, one arm raised to rest across his eyes. “I don't know why I bother.”

He could hear rustling as Soubi shifted beside him, presumably turning to look in his new direction. “Why _do_ you bother?”

“I like your paintings.” It wasn't the whole truth and they both knew it. Kio liked art, but no one, not even an art student, liked someone's work enough to put up with the kind of things Soubi put him through. But even now, he wasn't ready to tell him the real reason, so he turned the question back on Soubi before his statement could be challenged. “Maybe I should ask you the same question.”

“Why do I bother with what?”

“With me. You know. Why do you let me hang around? Why do you act like we're friends?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but it was too late to take them back.

Kio still wasn't looking at Soubi, but he could hear him just fine. And what he heard was silence, for long enough that he began to think he'd made a worse mistake than he'd thought. Any minute now, Soubi would just walk away. No, this was Soubi's place – he'd throw him out first, then walk away. He'd seen the way Soubi acted at school; he wouldn't find it difficult to ignore Kio completely, just like he did everyone else.

He tensed, prepared to argue, then nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt it: a feather-light brush of fingers over first one ear, then the other. Kio's eyes popped open and he gasped in disbelief. Soubi didn't touch him, or hardly ever, and never like this. “Sou-chan?”

He expected to see that smirk Soubi sometimes had when he teased, but he was still serious - serious and also sliding those warm fingers under his shirt. Kio squirmed, not quite edging away, but not leaning into the touch either. “Sou-chan, what are you doing?”

“Those. And this.” Soubi's hand trailed up Kio's back, over the tattoo hidden under his shirt. He was watching him now, his gaze intent, though with that expression, Kio wasn't sure what it was he was seeing.

“What about it?”

“You asked me once if I hurt myself.” He paused, waiting until Kio nodded, indicating that he remembered, or at least that he'd heard him, even if he weren't sure where Soubi was going with this. “I said I didn't. But you... what do you call this?”

“It's not like that!” The protest was automatic, but sincere. “Yeah, I guess it hurt, but it's about the looks, not the pain.”

Soubi made a thoughtful noise, a kind of hum under his breath. It was a sound he sometimes made while painting; he probably wasn't even aware of it. He did it again and then, without asking permission, he reached out, grasped Kio's hips with both hands, and turned him. Now that he could see his back, he lifted his shirt and looked at the tattoo he'd just been stroking. “I see what you mean. It's beautiful.”

From anyone else, that would have been a compliment. “You hate beautiful things,” Kio objected, twisting his head around to try to see what Soubi was doing.

“Do I?” Soubi smiled, but it was strange. There was something in the expression that Kio had never seen before. But before he could figure it out, put a name to what was different about it, he bent his head and started kissing along the line of Kio's shoulders – shoulders which immediately tensed, muscles clenching tight enough to ache.

It wasn't that he didn't want Soubi to touch him. Of course it wasn't; he'd wanted this for a long time. But it was so unexpected that he didn't know what to think, much less how to react. Why was Soubi doing this now? What had changed?

“What about Ritsuka?” he asked, then wanted to slap himself for being so stupid. Why had he asked _that_ , especially now? He knew how Soubi was about Aoyagis.

Soubi made his thinking sound again, his peculiar smile transformed into a more ordinary expression. Just seeing it, Kio already felt disappointed. “Good point. Maybe I should call and ask his permission first.”

That was the last straw. Maybe he was just teasing, but knowing Soubi, he was completely sincere. Kio wasn't about to let that happen, not when he'd shown interest at last. He pulled away from Soubi long enough to stand up, jerk his shirt off over his head, and toss it to the floor. Then he practically launched himself into Soubi's lap. It was a foolproof plan. Soubi couldn't go for his phone with Kio holding him down. And from this position, it was easier to kiss him.

He'd imagined kissing Soubi many times since they'd met. Once he'd really gotten to know him, it kept turning into a mental image of Kio kissing and Soubi refusing to kiss back, but this was nothing like that. It wasn't quite like the early images of mutual passion either: Soubi kissed back, but he was almost tentative, following Kio's lead.

But he didn't push him away and when Kio pulled back instead, Soubi didn't appear angry or disgusted or even disinterested. He looked at Kio with heavy-lidded eyes and slowly licked his lips. “You taste like sugar.”

“And you taste like smoke.” He didn't say it angrily, even if it wasn't his favorite flavor. It was a simple statement of fact, one he followed up on by raising his hands to the buttons on Soubi's shirt and starting to unfasten them. Kio did it slowly, leaving plenty of time for objections. 

When he received none, he decided maybe he just wasn't going to. Maybe Soubi really wanted this. Kio still didn't understand _why_ , exactly, not after years of apparent indifference. But he also knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He still hadn't gotten that explanation. Tomorrow, Soubi would probably be back to his old distant self. But this was here, now. And with that in mind, he tilted his hips to close any remaining distance between them and kissed Soubi again. Time enough to deal with tomorrow when it arrived.


End file.
